It wasn't important what they felt
Absolutely lost, unconscious, helpless
They were to die to satisfy the hunger
And emptiness in a butcher's mind
Slaughtered one by one
Feeling horrible pain
They know the sorrow and despair was their destiny
But the truth is like broken hope
They die for nothing
Being cut, gutted, destroyed
Their rotting feelings-with no hope
Nothing matters now
When being cut like weeds
They fall down into their predecessor's blood
And then others paralyzed by fear
They perish like a weak race that was killed
To stop inducing parasitic hazard
But the truth